Moonlight Feeding Madness
by AnneAquila
Summary: Apollo loves Clay. He would do anything for him. But if Clay is taken away from him... He'd tear the world apart. Piece by wretched piece. Will his twisted justice prevail? An Evil!Apollo AU dealing with the aftermath of the HAT-2 launch. Background Wrightworth.
1. In Which We Begin Not to Understand

**A/N:** Hello peeps! This is AK with a new fic for your reading pleasure. This is my first Yandre fic and also my first contribution to the AA fandom!

 **Warnings** : Major/Minor character death, mental instability, mild psychopath-ism, homosexuality (do I need to mention this?) and horrible things done in the name of love. Don't like, don't read.

 **Disclaimer** : The Ace Attorney Games do not belong to me (if they did, do you think that Clay would be dead?) and the story alone is mine.

Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

 **Midnight Feeding Madness**

 **Chapter one: In Which We Begin Not to Understand**

* * *

Slick fingers smoothed back chestnut hair.

His spikes were as unruly as ever, even when streaked with red.

His name was Apollo Justice.

His name which used to be a part of what invigorated him in his career as a defense attorney was now a cruel, cruel contradiction.

For he was no longer a staunch pursuer of justice.

Love had taken the top spot in his priority list and had shoved all the other slots off like a cuckoo bird in a crow's nest.

They said that it made you blind.

They said it drove you mad.

Apollo never knew how true that was.

Not until what he loved the most was nearly torn away from him.

Apollo would never let that happen _ever_ again.

* * *

Monday morning, the sun was shining brightly.

The salary men kissed their wives on their rosy cheeks and bid their children goodbye.

Apollo, who had neither, donned his coat and took his case files underneath his arm.

He stepped out on the porch and stretched his arms out.

His joints popped with a satisfying sound.

He put his hands on his hips and breathed in the morning air.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ladybird, Mr. Gardener," he greeted his neighbors.

They were a lovely old couple, married for fifty years and knowing each other for seventy.

Childhood sweethearts and still together at a ripe old age.

Truly, they were living proof that first loves could last.

Honestly?

That was the only reason that Apollo didn't finish them off by telling them that they lived next to a murderer.

Really now, they were so delicate.

The husband had a bad hip and the wife had heart problems.

They stood testimony to the fragility of life.

Not that he needed any reminders.

It would be so easy to fake a fall, easier still to fake a stroke.

So easy that he was tempted to do so before anyone else did-

No, bad Apollo! Bad!

As much as you want to destroy the world person by wretched person, you shouldn't.

Your neighbors were your cover, people who gave an alibi to where you were at night.

And old people were always _so_ easy to manipulate.

Hard of hearing, hard of sight…

Though there had been one shrewd old bat that had given him a run for his money.

It was a pity that he had to kill her off.

He would have liked to have played chess with her someday.

Ah, no matter.

He had more serious matters to think about.

He opened his file.

Clara Banks.

A fine-boned old lady with a peaches and cream complexion stared at him sweetly out of the victim's photograph.

Looking at that picture, no one would guess that she is one of the greatest undercover agents of the detective sector.

Apollo remembered how those endearing periwinkle blue eyes had hardened to steel just seconds before the life faded from them.

He grinned slightly.

How will he manipulate this case into proving his client's innocence this time?

Because he _knew_ that his client was innocent.

He was certain, one hundred percent.

How, you ask?

Simple.

He was the one who killed her, after all.

Who knew, he might even drop a hint on how this case might be linked with a few other of his cases… maybe it was done by the same person? He would the hide grin as his opposition tore down his perfectly sound argument.

Fools, the lot of them.

* * *

 **A/N:** So here it is! What do you think?


	2. Case Details

**A/N** : Hey y'all! This is the second chapter of 'Moonlight Feeding Madness'. Hope you like it!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Case Details**

* * *

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir, we have a new case. We have received a report that a woman called Clara Banks was found dead in the Armstrong Monticello celebration at 12:00 am. And, erm. She was wearing a grey suit as well, sir."

"Another one?" asked the Chief Prosecutor, startled.

"Yes sir. The apparent cause of death is stabbing. It is believed that a young man by the name Dustin Fever is responsible. However, the murder weapon is missing this time too, so we do not have definite proof."

Edgeworth pinched the bridge of his nose.

What was with the sudden rise in murders?

Was it a serial killer on the lose?

Or was it the newest trend?

Copycat suicides was a thing, was this something similar?

Perhaps it was pure coincidence and the whole thing mere conjecture by virtue of Edgeworth's over-caffeinated mind?

Whatever it was, it needed to be stopped.

And soon.

Edgeworth reviewed the facts in his mind.

Celery London, Takashi Takada and Clara Banks.

Three different people had been killed- three people of different dispositions, different appearances and different walks of life.

There seemed to be few links between them except for their grey suits.

And the fact that they had died at 12:00 am on consecutive days.

And the little matter that there was _no known murder weapon_.

...Dammit.

Edgeworth suddenly felt very angry with the world.

Three murders in as many days, all seemingly untraceable.

If things kept going at this rate, half the population would consist of murderers and the other half would be dead!

But then again, this could be caffeine talking.

Seven empty teacups sat on his desk and it was barely nine in the morning.

He was sure that it composed 76% of his bloodstream at this point, easily taking over the role of water and pumping sugary life through his veins.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir?"

Edgeworth looked up at Detective Gumshoe with tired eyes.

"I understand that this is a matter of immediate concern," he said carefully, "but there are, erm- more suitable prosecutors to take the case. Prosecutor Gavin, for instance-?"

"Prosecutor Gavin is, ahem- missing, sir."

"…I see. And may I ask why?"

"Unknown, sir."

Edgeworth sighed.

"Prosecutor Gavin is known for his… flighty nature," said Edgeworth with an effort, "As he had been showing some improvement, I had hoped… Well, never mind. Now, Prosecutor Blackquill is a fine gentleman, never shirking his duty. Surely he can take up the case?"

"I am sorry to say this, sir…"

"…What is it?"

"Prosecutor Blackquill is- well, he left a message with his bird."

"With Taka? Well then, let's see it."

"Um, I not so sure, sir-"

"Hand it over."

The detective obliged.

A crumpled piece of paper with nearly unintelligible spiky handwriting scrawled on it stared back at Edgeworth.

He looked at Detective Gumshoe.

"I'll see what I can do about the case, Detective. You are excused."

"…Try not to overdo it sir."

After the detective left the room, Edgeworth took a long sip of calming tea.

He then picked up the magenta receiver (not pink, regardless of what Wright may say) and dialed a familiar number.

"Wright, this is Edgeworth. Sent those two buffoons to my office. _Now_."

* * *

Phoenix Wright was a man of many talents.

However, the art of refusing a certain Miles Edgeworth often eluded him.

After a few curt exchanges, he set the blue receiver down with a sigh.

The two young men who had offered their services in exchange of temporary admittance were proving to be troublesome.

"Wright-dono, are these boxes in the right place?"

Phoenix looked over the neatly arranged stack and was slightly mollified.

"Yes, thank you Simon. Now, about your blond compatriot…"

"I believe that he is with Ms. Trucy."

"…And Trucy is with Athena?"

"Well yes, she is," said Simon, with slight surprise.

Ah, Klavier!

Couldn't you have picked a better time to woo your object of admiration?

"…Complete what you're doing and report in to Mi-Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth."

Simon paled.

At least someone understood the weight of the situation.

"…Yes, Wright-dono."

"I'll be done with Klavier in a moment. The two of you can go together."

"I hope we didn't cause you too much trouble-"

Phoenix waved it off with an airy hand.

"It's nothing, nothing at all. If anything, I should offer you my condolences since you weren't able to meet Apollo today."

'Condolences'.

Heh.

Edgeworth was rubbing off on him.

Simon gave a start.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Justice…"

Phoenix looked at him carefully.

Simon looked back, perfectly blank.

Phoenix could practically _see_ the psyche lock click into place.

Oho.

Oh ho ho.

It seems like 'case details' wasn't the reason of his visit.

He wondered.

Time for some justice magic!

"Well, Simon. Correct me if I'm wrong. Klavier is in the kitchen,"

No response.

Huh?

But he was so sure that… no, it couldn't be that he-

"Trucy is with him,"

Oh, thank goodness.

Wall of stone.

But then, who exactly had caught his eye?

"And Athena is with them."

A twitch.

Finally!

So Mr. Stone-face had a thing for Athena as well, eh?

Phoenix took a second to wonder how his young apprentice managed to grab the attention of so many young men.

What ever it was, Phoenix didn't envy her.

He remembered how it was in his younger days.

To be honest, he preferred to pursue rather be pursued.

But Edgeworth, who wouldn't budge an inch, was the object of admiration for many a pursuer.

Honestly, it took more time to shoo away the pests buzzing around Miles than to actually get together with him.

He remembered a particularly persistent one by the name of Lang…

Phoenix suddenly felt very tired.

"You know what, Simon? I'll finish it up later. Just take Klavier and go."

"Wright-dono?"

"You don't want to keep Edgeworth waiting, now do you?"

After shooing the two away from the office, Phoenix reclined on his desk chair and sighed deeply.

He was getting too old for this.

* * *

After being shooed away from the office, Klavier reclined on his car seat and sighed deeply.

He was too young to die!

And die he will, in the hands of the Chief Prosecutor.

Ah, the things one does in the name of love!

"Don't rest your feet on the dashboard Klavier," said Simon sternly, "This is a company car, not your personal drive."

Klavier felt a spark of irritation.

Not only was he going to die, he was going to die next to the most stuck up being in the universe- Herr Eye-shadow!

But he obediently put his feet down.

It was never a good idea to antagonize a driver.

Especially one who is driving the car you're in.

As he did so, the light glinting off his polished shoe-buckle, Simon swerved roughly.

Klavier hit his head against the window. Hard.

Things stabilized almost immediately after.

Klavier felt his head gingerly.

Sure enough, there was a bump.

He felt rage bubble up within him like lava.

"Herr Blackquill," he said with grit teeth, "What do you think you are doing, exactly?"

He bit back any comments on lack of driving skill and other, far worse insults.

Simon looked at the rear view mirror seriously and said, "Black ice."

Klavier's anger practically evaporated.

"At this time of year-?"

He whirled around, and sure enough, there was a suspicious sheen on the road.

Before they did anything, another car was sent spinning.

He cursed, low and heartfelt as Simon managed to avoid collision by an impromptu parallel park at the side of the highway.

This day just kept getting better and better didn't it?

He sent a quick message to the prosecutor's office, informing them of their predicament and of their tardiness.

Simon hailed down the Traffic Policeman to bar the road.

Unfortunately, it was a singularly useless man by the name Meekins.

Klavier sighed.

He hoped that, if nothing else, this will give Herr Edgeworth enough time to cool down.

* * *

Edgeworth put his head down with a thump.

The he did so again, with slightly more force.

He had the worst luck in the history of luck.

The worst.

There was no one in the prosecutor's office who could take up the case.

Half of the office was on paid leave and most of the remaining was either injured or incompetent.

What more, those precious few prosecutors were up to their necks in work.

And guess who the defense attorney for the Celery London case was?

Phoenix Wright, that's who.

Edgeworth was not going to send Mr. Payne to go toe to toe with that insufferable husband of his.

To top things off, he had just received word that two of his prosecutors were caught arguing with a Road Safety Patrol Officer down at Seventh Street.

That was the absolute last straw.

He was going to suspend them.

He was going to suspend them even if it killed him.

Having made up his mind, Edgeworth tried to figure out how exactly could he manage to be at two places at once.

* * *

 **A/N** : So, what do you think? Reads, reviews and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Also, if anyone's interested, what do you think are the murder weapons used? I have a few in mind, but I wonder what you guys think.


End file.
